Seven Deadly Sins
by sentinel10
Summary: Each and every one of them were guilty. In one way - or another. Each of them played their part to create their own inferno.
1. Prologue

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

...

**Sin**

[[_Culpa_]]

any reprehensible or regrettable action, behaviour, lapse, etc.;great fault or offence

...

Each and every one of them were guilty. In one way - or another.

Each of them played their part to create their own inferno.

...

Like _Asmodeus _the demon, resposible for twisting people's desires, he brought Lust.

Like _Beelzebub_, the Semitic deity who was worshiped in the Philistine city of Ekron, he brought Gluttony.

Like _Mammon_, the deity of 'dishonest gain', the false God of riches and avarice, he brought Greed.

Like _Belphegor_, who Lucifer sent from Hell to see if true happiness existed, only to find that people where not destined to live in harmony, he brought Sloth.

Like _Amon_, a Marquis of Hell, the seventh of the 72 Goetic demons who governs forty infernal legions, he brought Wrath.

Like _Leviathan_, one of the seven princes of Hell and its gatekeeper, the great Sea monster, he brought Envy.

And like _Lucifer_, the accuser, the adversary, the 'fallen angel', he brought Pride.

...

* * *

They had battled and bloodied one another, they had kept secrets, broken hearts, lied, betrayed, exiled, they had walked away, said goodbye and sworn it was forever, and somehow, every time, they had mended, they had forgiven, they had survived. Some mistakes could never be fixed - some, but not all. Some people can't be driven away, no matter how hard you try.

- Robin Wasserman


	2. Lust

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

...

**Lust**

[[ _Luxuria_ ]]

Excessive thought's or desire's of a sexual nature

…

It had always been there.

The pure primal urge that only one thing could make a man suddenly cheat on his wife with. Make his neck turn in the opposite direction as the road he was driving down. Make him suddenly believe that there were cracks in his already existing relationship. Make him want to stray from the path of faithfulness, the path of comfortable love, to the dark un-trekked path of debauchery, to the moss covered stone ground, through the over hanging dead trees, all the way into _her _bed.

In the world of beasts, it was the female. The bitch.

In the world of man, it was the woman. The temptress.

In the small reservation of LaPush, it was Leah. The she-wolf.

Every single male shifter had thoughts about her. Deep in the riven of their darkest fantasies. Deep in their thoughts, tucked safely under the love of their partner's. Deep in the still of the night, where not even the moon shines. Where everything is still. There is no wind, no birds, no slight hindrance of a breaking dawn. No. There was nothing. Nothing but _her_.

Leah.

Nothing but her curvaceous body.

Her bronzed skin and the way things just seemed to illuminate from it. Water. Sweat. And even sand. The black sand from First Beach seemed to even sparkle. Many thought it impossible until it was damp against her skin, running through her slender fingers, filleted across her torso. It shone. Like diamonds.

The small freckles splattered across her button nose were as if Michael Angelo himself, flicked his paint brush at her direction, admiring the pure ecstasy only a woman's form could bring. Her form. The form they'd all wished was wrapped tightly against them at night. Pressing against their and only their taught muscled chest. The chest of a male wolf.

There was nothing but her long straight hair. It's colour darker than blood, blacker than the forest during an eclipse. The way it would effortlessly tousle in the wind only to return to it's exact location, brushing close to her slender neck and squared out shoulder's.

Her lips, the way they cushioned against each other, like small pillow's. Soft as silk and as smooth as the lips of a mandarin. The way they smacked together when she was satisfied, pulled tight when she was annoyed or pouty when she was upset. The sheen pink colouring that seemed to make them appear moist and welcoming.

She was by all means, perfection. With a body and face decorated by tiny angels, graced down straight from the heaven's, perhaps made in Aphrodite's image, a gift from the ancient Greek gods, given to the people of LaPush to admire. To admire but to never touch. The untouchable peak. Mount Olympus itself. The Himalayans to the Tibetan people.

Each shifter male had their own secret glances over her body. Each soaking in the smooth curse, the wicked movements, the un-spoken and soundless dance her body seemed to make as she walked. The took it all in. And they all itched to hum it's notes.

The way Paul could discreetly stare at the straining ribbed nipples under her cotton top as she scowled at Sam, with her arms crossed, pressing them impossibly higher.

The way Jared fluttered an eye open, the nano second just before she'd phase to catch the shimmering beauty of her change.

The way Embry sat across from the couch and stared at her long legs, his eyes running for miles over the toned shape of her calves and thighs, wishing it was him sitting under them, stroking them lovingly.

The way Sam imagined his tiny son, Immanuel, suckling upon her perfect breast as she looked down adoringly at the child, instead of his Emily.

The way Jacob watched her laugh and then threaten Seth with death as she clung to his back for a piggy back ride at the beach in her barely there bikini. Her long legs wrapped around his waist, her arms holding around the tops of his shoulder's, her palm size breasts pressed up against his russet skinned back instead of her brother's.

They all had their fantasies and their own secret thought's, hidden and protected for not a soul to see. Not until LaPush was quiet, and in the dead of the night, they'd call for her. Their wolf's spirit howling, throwing their heads back and facing the moon. Calling to their ancestors and wishing, praying, hoping. Hoping one day, their imprints would break and they were free to love again.

Like an unattainable quest for gold, an ever present journey into a unknown land, a wonderous mirage for all to see. But never touch. Never reach out to wrap their arms around her waist. To kiss her mouth. To breathe in each breath she blew out. To use her as oxygen. Use her as a way of escape. A way to be normal. A way to want without guilt. A way to see without being blind.

It was all there. So close and yet, so far. Like a star.

She was the _one _thing that inspired this feeling. This wrong emotion. This unforgivable sin among imprinted wolves. This delicate flower amongst a bed of thorns.

She was Leah Clearwater.

And she was Lust.


	3. Gluttony

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

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**Gluttony**

[[ _Gula _]]

To gulp down or swallow; the over-indulgence and over-consumption of anything to the point of waste.

…

He thought it was gone. He thought he'd rid himself of the insatiable hunger. The thirst that clawed within his throat to take a life. and another. and another.

But it wasn't.

It would never be gone. Not truly. Not madly. Not deeply.

Not even after all this time. Not after all that was given to him. All they trust to lay within his grip. All the love of a family and the love of a mate.

Alice could only fill the void of the gapping hole momentarily. She could only seal his body over, press her stamp against his chest, sear him for a split second. She gave him all of her and she _still _wasn't enough.

All the time, at every hour of the day he could feel the trust they'd wrapped in a tiny box and given to him when he'd joined their clan, splay through his very fingertips. The fingertips he'd used as a solider. A killer. A murderer. The wooden morsel turning to ashen dust and sliding between the creases of his hand, pooling within his palm before it all gently blew away with the Autumn breeze.

Hearing the heart beats made it come back. Made everything good that he had done in his life crumble and burst into flames. Deep flames that he could feel in his chest as the scent became stronger, the monster rising to sit just beneath the surface of his cold, dead, marble skin, waiting for the perfect moment.

A silent kill. A strike to the temple, a quick grip to crush it's windpipe.

An animal drained of it's life force dropped once again to the wet damp forest floor, it's hoof twitching as the heart realised that there was nothing left to pump. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to deny his body by layering it with other needs and wants.

The want to please his mate. The want to fit in to society and walk freely amongst humanity again. The need to be loved. and the need to be at peace with his monster.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

_Forente _they would call it. '_Eating wildly_'... boringly. The fill never settling his venomous teeth of their hunger. His golden eyes. His soft blonde hair. All a mere disguise, used to blind and bind.

He could still feel the slow dissipating heart beat of the animal throb against his lips, but he needed more. Like a snake, devouring it's prey, like the great night owl, swooping in a sudden burst. Like the constant insatiable animal urge to take what he could. He took.

And took.

And took.

Until the forest lay quiet without a single sound, without a whisper, a breath, except for that of the sharp shallow breaths he spouted.

Though the need to breathe was laughable, he still felt at ease, closing his eyes to intake the thick forest air around him. The smell was calming once mixed with his accomplishment.

His gain.

He had gained a moment of solace, a moment of pure silence, which harrowed his past demons, a moment when the thirst left and the monster retreated. The monster though ever present, would lie in wait, stirring and threatening to wake at any moment. His monster was a beast, an all consuming black hole, that could feed forever.

It was good to breathe. He felt human again. As human as he could possibly feel.

Until he opened his eyes.

The mass bodies of forest animals lay around him, broken, drained and feed off, no longer defenseless, no longer prey. Merely only vessels that previously held the warm drizzle of liquid his lips so desperately clung to. The liquid he would always need. A need to fill the monster's belly, if only for a second of clarity, before it came rushing back.

His only excuse would be that of a clear conscience. Of a un-heavy heart he no longer possessed in his stone like body.

Though he felt it.

He felt it when his teeth pop through the first layer of flesh, his lips amongst a beastly ruffle of fur.

He felt his _heart _beat.

If only for a second. A second when his chest constricted and he felt the feathery flutter of something, something warm, something deep down inside of him. Something which had become dormant.

Dusting his boots of the dried blood and dirt and straightening his vest, he looked around at the forest floor which was no longer dewy vegetation but twisted carcasses, a sea of bodies, a sea of limbs and necks, discarded in an uncaring fashion, _monstrously_.

Breathing deeply into his lungs he sucked in the heavy scent of death that clung the air and smiled. His teeth glimmering and the low sparkle of his skin, catching but only a slit of sunlight that cut through the tree tops.

If he could sleep tonight, he would have a marvous dream. Perhaps of swirling colour's, his mother's face, the low sunset of Texas on a hot summer night. His home.

If _only _a vampire could.

He was Jasper Hale.

And he was Gluttony.


	4. Greed

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

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**Greed**

[[ _Avaritia _]]

The rapacious desire and pursuit of wealth, status, and power.

…

He'd always been the most worthy.

He was the golden child of LaPush. The favourite son amongst the elder's. The first to phase, the first to imprint, the first Alpha.

He had been the first in many things and he was adamant in keeping it that way.

There was a certain charm about growing up the son of a bastard, a drunk jobless wonder, a worthless father figure with an even more degrading reputation. The charm worked on many once his story was told. How he'd cry himself to sleep, help his mother organise a house hold with minimal means of income, the pressure's of stepping up to be a man at such a young age.

Such a burden on his shoulders. One that no child should carry.

Yet he worked through. With the charm of pity and the natural charm he had about him.

Charisma, his mother once called it.

Strength, Old Quil had commented.

His _right_, his imprint beamed.

Growing up he made sure to always be courteous, always polite in hopes that one day the sin's of the father would damped and the achievements of the son would shine through.

He knew he was something special when he'd phased. Deep in the woods he stalked, knowing what he had become, what his people needed from him. They needed him to protect them, to guard over their lands, their children. They needed him to assure them they would rest easy at night, and assure them he did.

With both the council and Leah by his side, he knew that his status had grown amongst the community. No longer was he a boy, but a man. A man who would one day be their leader, how he would instruct the tribe to became greater, to lift from the oppression they were bound in and stand tall again. Stand proud. Stand as their ancestors had when the white man came. How they'd learned from their cousin across the lands, to scalp a live man, to inflict death by a single blow, one precise movement, to end an enemy.

Though the enemy had changed, the mission did not.

Instead of guns, they came with fangs. Instead of swords, they came with the strength of a bear. Instead of raping their woman, and enslaving their children, they came to kill them. Feed from them, only as the un-dead could.

He could feel the winds of change approaching on the horizon as he stood atop the highest mountain and looked down on his lands, proud to be the one and only Quileute protector.

But those winds did not blow in his favour. They blew east instead, the blew towards the great ocean, where Ephraim Black had once traveled, they blew towards the bordered lands of the last remaining chief.

Only to land upon his son.

LaPush's son. It's true son. And true Alpha.

No sooner had Jacob Black phased, Leah was also ripped from his heart. It's bleeding cavern tender with hurt, waterless yet drowning, in a sea of his own internal blood.

He had invisioned their life. One were he was of the highest power and she would cater to his every need. His every want. She would have been his wife, bore him strong son's and fed them all with the ways of her grandmothers cooking.

But the moment he looked into _her _eyes, the dream was gone. Shattered like glass against a blistering rock, like a spear lodging straight toward a great whale. It was unavoidable and it had been done.

He was bound. Bound to _her_.

Emily Young.

With a sorrowful heart he began to re-build his power, placing in Leah's stead, _his _Emily. She may not have been as strong, as willed, as beautiful or as perfect as Leah, but she was hand picked. His anscetor's knowing that she was the perfect woman for him. His soul mate, his other half. The one that would make him complete without question and love him without doubt.

For a home. For a family. For a human life.

Using the chief's son had been a success. If only for a while. He had been gracious enough to offer him the position, even if he believed the 'boy' could never handle it, and the 'Black' boy had declined.

Victory raged through his veins. A small sense of power beginning to align and make everything right, the way it should have been.

_The original plan_.

But like all victories, all empires, they are slowly pulled at, etched along the walls, ground down, stone against stone, Alpha against Alpha.

When the time had come, he'd had no choice. For the true Alpha's word was stronger than his. It could crush his bones and bend his knees, until he was bowing in front of a 'boy'. A boy that knew nothing of leadership, that knew nothing of leading a people, leading a pack. All _he _had done was step in at the right moment and snatch all he had been working for. The training he had put in, the effort of creating glue to bind them, where there was none.

He had created the original plan only to have it snatched from him by the true Alpha. An ungrateful shifter who was willing to let his whole tribe perish, for the love of a 'girl'. A lioness, dressed in lamb's cloth.

It should have been _his_. Leah. The Pack. LaPush. _Everything_.

He was Samuel Uley.

And he was Greed.


	5. Sloth

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

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**Sloth**

[[ _Socordia _]]

Failure to utilise one's talents and gifts; more a sin of omission than of commission.

…

He could have changed it.

His destiny. His chains that held him against his will. The shackles that yanked against his heart when he tried to move. Tried to breathe. Tried to think.

He could have stopped it all. He could have sent them away, the blood drinker's, the un-dead, the vampire's. He could had ordered them to leave and never come back, never step foot near the Washington borders again. He could have sent them anywhere. Anywhere but here.

But he didn't. So now he was paying the price.

The were often arguments flitted amongst the pack that 'He was in love, he couldn't kill the girl that held his heart', only to have the spiteful words that he 'didn't know what love was, that the girl was using the good graces of his heart to obtain what she wanted most'.

She wanted her lion.

Not a wolf. Not a man, with a beating heart and warm skin.

No.

She wanted a creature that was cold, that feasted and killed. She wanted to be surrounded forever by unchanging faces and the scent of death. Almost like a funeral parlor with their sickly sweet and prickly aroma mixed in. A line of rotten corpses and rotten fruit, licking at her skin, tempting her to jump into the pit of death with them.

He should have fought for love. A love like his parent's had. A love that was made from hard work, a long days labour. A love that came from within his border's, within his friends. A love that blossomed equally and not one that weighed heavily against him, expecting him to give his all only to receive just a slither of affection.

He should have looked to his right. His right hand wo_man_. His Beta.

If he had, he would have seen the longing looks, the soft glances. He would have heard her heart as it beat in sync with his own, her deep breaths as she struggled to breathe around him. He should have noticed her voice, the way she'd drop her tone and speak honestly and truthfully with him.

He should have looked anywhere. Looked anywhere but here.

_'You're worth following_' sounded over and over through his head but still he didn't understand. He didn't pick up on the light tone of her honeyed voice, the sparkle in her eyes, the slight twitch of her lips once she'd finally said it out loud. Admitted it not only to herself but to him, in hopes that he would finally see. But like all blind men, he fumbled his way past her and onto the next.

No.

Instead he'd held the hand of a girl who was growing a monster inside her womb. A monster that would one day tie him forever to the pain of being second best. The pain of always being pushed aside, counted as last.

They could have opened up his chest, letting their cold finger's prod and squeeze at his heart. Watching as the blood from his face drained and the pure and utter agony was the only thing left.

He could have changed his own fate, but he knew himself, he was not strong enough to push her away. The moment his Bella sided with a vampire, he should have cleaned the slate away, from brimstone and ash, he should have left her standing alone in the forest, void of anyone, much like Edward had.

He should have told her that she'd made her choice, that she couldn't have them both, that he didn't deserve to be treated like a house trained puppy, yielding to his masters every wish.

Strength was what he needed, but didn't possess.

Ultimately - it was _never _Bella's choice. It was always _his_.

He was the master of his own destiny, the captain of his own ship, the leader of his tribe and he should have found courage in his own blood, found the temperament of the wolf, used his spirit, before she crushed in beneath her cold dead palm.

But it was too late.

He now sat on the pristine white couch of the Cullen home, it's walls stained with unseen blood, it's stench reaching not only his nose, but the noses of his pack mates. The steel and wood of the house twisting unnaturally to create an illusion of an unacceptable union.

Between fire and ice.

Between pine and iron.

Shape-shifter and Hybrid.

Hunter and Hunted.

His mind wandered to a different place, as he watched her run towards him with open arms. Her bronze hair bouncing from her dainty un-human like pale shoulders, her eyes golden and clear, except for the tiny thin line of her iris, coated in the colour of his own life force. The colour that reminded him everyday of what she was, what he loved, and what he was bound to.

_Red_.

So he did the only thing he could do. He embraced her and kissed her forehead, staring out through the large glass windows into the forest over her shoulder, to watch the grey wolf back slowly into the trees with it's head hung.

He was Jacob Black.

And he was Sloth.


	6. Wrath

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

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**Wrath**

[[ _Ira _]]

Anger or Rage; in its purest form, presents with self-destructiveness, violence, and hate. Thus suicide was deemed as the ultimate, albeit tragic, expression of wrath directed inwardly, a final rejection of God's gifts.

…

All her life she'd been different.

Different from all the other girls who seemed to have large families, siblings that they could rely on, siblings they could turn to. Parent's even, that would scoop up their little princesses and kiss their cheeks, inquiring about how there first day a kindergarten went.

They all seemed to be surrounded by pockets of love, while she wanted at the steel gates of the school, patiently for her mother to arrive.

When her mother didn't arrive on time, she'd sit quietly on the yellow stone pavement and pull one of the assigned books the teacher had given them in class that day. Flipping through the pages, she smiled as the small princess would eventually be swept away by the cute prince, telling her that he'd always be there to catch her when she fell and to kiss her when she was sad.

When she'd hear the loud beep of her mother's old green station wagon, she'd quickly stuff the reader inside her bag and bound to the car only to stop meters from the door. Her mother's long sandy blonde hair was styled up roughly and the blue eye shadow she wore was smudged horribly, coupled with the black stains of mascara.

She knew before she even hoped into the old beat up car, that her mother had had a fight with one of her boyfriends. She hated when her mother cried, telling her that it was her father's fault for trying to trap her in a loveless marriage and now that she was free no man wanted her. Her wrinkles where starting to show, her breast weren't as high.

She had even once blamed her for being the reason men didn't stick around, because who would want a woman with a 5 year old klutz that spent more time in the hospital than at home. With her shoulder's slumped she remained quiet on their drives home, pulling into the run down units they called a home.

It was nice. It was quiet, but as time grew on and her mother's voice became such an insistent echo in her mind, she sought more. More than a bed and a roof over her head could provide.

When her mother finally met Phil, who only barely made ends meet, she jumped at the chance to live with her estranged father. Though on the other side of the country, she felt trapped in the motor home they were planning to live in until Phil's baseball career finally paid off.

The first day a 'Forks High' in the cafeteria, she knew he was the one. He was handsome, dangerous and had an air about him. He wore nice clothes and his whole family looked as if they had stepped out of the princess book she had owned since she was five years old.

Everything about him told her to look in the other direction, run for the hills, lock the windows at night, but he had something she wanted.

She sat with her eyes bright, watching as his family laughed and interacted. All their faces strong and set in high class.

He was her prince. She knew it. He had to be.

He could give her everything she ever wanted. A family. A home. A life outside being the trailer trash girl she'd grown up to be.

There was nothing that could change her mind. Not anything. Not the love and despair of her best friend. Not the fact that he tried to keep his distance and not even the fact that he was different.

He was a lion amongst the crowd, while she was the lamb. She offered herself fully to him, letting him take her by the hand and lead her to the slaughter house.

She accepted what she would be giving up. A mother that did not care how her grades were excelling or failing, but rather than her hair was longer or her skin clearer.

A father that spent more hours at work than fixing up the creaky doors in his house and who would let her slave over a hot stove in order to 'pay' her way.

With Edward she would not have to do a thing. He was already devoted to wait hand and foot on her, quoting her as 'special', his very own 'singer'. Her body calling to him. Her blood driving him crazy.

So when the time came for her daughter to be born, she was ready.

She was ready for him to change her. To make her strong like him. To peel away the onion type skin and allow a beautiful graceful creature to emerge. She could live forever, her beauty never changing, her body frozen in time. She could stay as she'd always wanted to be.

Young.

Edward had tried to plead with her, ask her why a 'long happy life' together would not be enough. But she wanted more. She wanted everyone around her to look at her and know. Know that she was not a Swan. She wanted them to know she was now a beautiful dove. A dove which could fly far away from the burden of her parents. from the burden of being the odd one out, from being the five year old klutz that spent more time in the hospital than at home and the burden of being 'plain' and 'ordinary'.

She didn't need to comtemplate the feelings of her best friend, because she knew, once she was beautiful he would always be by her side.

She didn't need to comptemplate the agony her parents would feel never seeing her again.

She was going to be beautiful.

And the only thing she had to do - was _die_.

She was Bella Swan.

And she was Wrath.


	7. Envy

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

...

**Envy**

[[ _Invidia _]]

To resent that another person has something they perceive themselves as lacking, and wish the other person to be deprived of it.

…

He was in purgatory.

Along with Dante, he was part of a Devine Comedy.

His eyes shewn shut with wire. His face never changing with time. His loneliness seeping from his inner most core. He had his wife, his daughter, but both did not understand. Bella had lived and made the decision of choosing an immortal life, and while his daughter would never age past 19 years old, she had the warmth beat of a heart and the ability to not only take life - but _give _it.

He was being punished for the sins of his past. The sins he could never let go of. The sins of taking a human life into his own hands and playing God.

Who was he to judge who lived or died. Who was he to take the life of a murderer, though the scum of humanity, still apart of it.

Unlike him.

He'd made plenty of mistakes. Mistakes he was reminded of everyday when his eyes would lock with Leah Clearwater's. He knew what she was thinking. How she detested his very existence, the way he'd walk among human's, mimicking their breath's, their emotions. Wanting to be a human so badly but failing miserably.

Hate, disgust, joy and love.

She reminded him everyday that it was his fault for changing her life, altering her future. Just by merely existing.

He sometimes watched as she sat across the living space, nodding understandability, trying desperately tear her eyes again from her Alpha. Tear her heart away from his. Tear herself to pieces, quietly, silently, unknowingly. Edward wondered how Jacob Black could have the admiration of so many.

Not only had his wife loved him to some extent, but now his only daughter and the only woman who ever came close to making him feel alive.

No one had managed to make him feel alive in over 110 years, but there she was, undertaker to the dead, making him wonder if she knew exactly what she was doing.

Leah's soul was deep. She had experienced happiness if only for a moment, so had felt the searing pain of abandonment, the crippling emotion of depression and the pure ecstasy of being around her Alpha. Her thought's were often jumbled and confusing, though he did pick up on the harsh comments she threw darkly at him.

Blood sucker. Leech. Le Stat. Icicle. Mind rapist. Dead. Soul taker.

He understood them all. All the aggression in her mind, all of the hurt, the betrayal, the longing to be the one in Jacob's arms. But still he could not - _feel _- it.

Had his heart been too long stopped. Frozen over like ice in his chest. The burning dry of a cold winter. A freezing jagged stone, replaced inside where a heart should sit. Where a heart should beat. Wherein the soul took shelter. A body old and decayed, only covered by the illusion of a 17 year old boy.

In some cases he almost felt as his brother Jasper did. He could hear and see every emotion, but _unlike _his brother he could not feel it. All he felt was the debilitating want. A want be just like her. Have just what she had. To _feel _what she did.

Following her through the forest, hiding in the cover of the trees, he gazed upon her. He wanted to watch. Watch what she felt after she'd found out about Jacob and his daughter's engagement. He wanted her to cry, to tremble with sadness. He wanted to see each tear fall and reach out and catch them in his palm, feel that they really do exist.

He hadn't seen the salty moisture of tears in so long. They were almost some kind of sacred myth, like a long lost story, told to people to warn them off love. Loving a man. A man that did not and _could _not return the love.

Watching her fall to her knees he stepped closer, wanting to see the wet drop, trickle from her eye and stain her face.

Hearing her scream, he could almost see the breath of anguish leave her mouth. Hitting the sunlight. Ricocheting off the surrounding trees. And then he smelt it.

Closing his eyes he inhaled their salty scent.

They were real. They were not a myth.

His blissful face dropped as she spoke, her voice merely a whisper, hoarse and full of a indescribable emotion.

_'You're road to happiness, you're endeavorer to be human, you've killed me'_

Her movements were swift and fast as she ran from the space heading towards LaPush, back to the safety of her home, disappearing fast. But Edward's eyes were on a small leaf, that was glistening only a foot from him. Picking it up delicately, he pressed the green foliage to his lips and tasted them.

It had been so long. So long since he'd tasted his own. The salt drying in an instant on his tongue.

He had no soul, such a thing the dead could never possess, but he could taste Leah's, and he could _finally _feel her pain.

He was Edward Cullen.

And he was Envy.


	8. Pride

**I do not own Twilight.**

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Seven Deadly Sins

...

**Pride**

[[ _Supurbia _]]

A desire to be more important or attractive than others, failing to acknowledge the good work of others, and excessive love of self. Considered the original and most serious of the seven deadly sins, and the source of the others.

…

She was born perfect.

Her parent's had told her so. Her aunts, uncles and even grandparent's had all agreed. After all, she had to have been if her Jacob imprinted on her as a child. He imprinted on her, not only because she was perfect, but because they were perfect for each other.

Everything about her was what Jacob wanted. Her long curly bronze hair, which she'd gotten from her daddy along with her golden eyes. Her lithe and slender body she gotten from her mother along with her small hands and pointed nose.

She'd often make sure that Jacob controlled his pack. Especially when they were at her grandparent's house. The white couches couldn't be dirtied by their sweaty and often dirt covered bodies. Their big feet. The strange scent they'd leave on the 10,000 dollar carpets. She was sure that if Jacob used an Alpha command on them to shower before they entered, would be the only way they listened.

He didn't but they did listen. All except Leah Clearwater.

She was often laying around on the furniture, rubbing her weird bronze skin against it, her black hair shaking out to drop a few leaves on the floor from the forest.

She'd told Jacob. Ordered him. She said to him, to make sure it doesn't happen again. That if Leah sat on the couch, she couldn't. She wasn't allowed to. That if he loved her, he would tell Leah to behave and sit over in the corner or something with the other dogs.

It had been a warm Summer day when Leah had screamed at her, clenching her fist, threatening to kill her if she ever called her a 'mutt' or 'bitch' again. She hadn't seen what the big deal was, Leah Clearwater was always over reacting.

So she did the only thing she could think of. She ran to Jacob and told him that Leah had threatened her life. She'd trembled in his arms and asked him to send Leah away. Make her patrol as punishment for hurting his mate. Her feelings.

Once a long week of patrolling for Leah had finished, she didn't come back to the house and she'd fully appreciated the gesture. Plus, Jacob needed to spend more time with her than the 'bitch' of LaPush. They had a wedding to prepare for. A marvelous white and cream wedding. Exotic flowers. Crystal Chandeliers. An ice love heart for the table centre piece.

And of course she knew she would get it.

Jacob didn't have much money but that didn't matter. He could always beg her father for some, because of course he'd have to do it in the future. How else where they going to buy a loft and have three children on the wages of a mechanic? How else was she going to maintain her extravagant life style.

Exactly. Daddy would be more than happy to hand it over.

Because every one knew the Cullen's were rich and Native people weren't. They thought that a stew was a good hearty meal, were as she expected a full course meal. Starting from soup and nibbles to dessert and coffee. How could a mere stew be full of the nutrients she needed. It was not fathomable. And to be completely honest it tasted horrible.

She'd have to make sure to tell Jacob to built a shed or garage thing out the back, so he and the other wolves could have their unimportant pack meetings far away from the house. Away from her expensive china that they were not allowed to touch because they would break it with there big hands. Away from the expensive wall paper and mink carpets.

If she'd ever let the Clearwater girl in the house, she would have to book a priest to exorcise the whole house. Taking her evil away. Her bitterness. Her resentment.

And of course Jacob said he would. He would build her anything she wanted.

Perhaps she ask Jacob to buy her a Mercedes, as the BMW had some scratches on the bumper. She didn't like it. The small chip stains, marring the white paint. It looked - filthy.

Walking out of the small room and to the doors, stopping to let aunt Alice and aunt Rose fuss over the puffy wedding dress, she smiled. This was her day. Her day to be the flower, the belle of the ball.

With a flick of her wrist, the two quickly stepped back, so she could adjust the bust line of the most expensive dress in the whole of Washington. And with that she was ready. Ready to become Mrs. Jacob Black.

Because this was the perfect day. The perfect wedding. The perfect moment.

She was going to walk out of the huge Italian church with a husband. To go home with and go on the best honeymoon and trip to the Bahama's, which he had worked weekend's to save for.

It didn't matter that Jacob was upset because he hadn't heard from Leah. It didn't matter that he muttered her name in his sleep, that he cried sometimes, that he was hurting.

It didn't matter, because everything was perfect.

And he would eventually forget about his Beta after a while anyway. It was inevitable. Because how could he think of Leah when he had her by his side.

'If any one has any objections why these two should not wed, please now speak, or forever hold your peace'

Smiling smugly she kissed Jacob after saying 'I do' and turned to leave.

She was perfect. And the best wife anyone could ever wanted.

She was Renesmee Cullen.

And she was pride.


	9. End

**I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

Seven Deadly Sins

...

**End**

[[ _Finis _]]

Final or ultimate

…

Through me you pass into the city of woe:  
Through me you pass into eternal pain:  
Through me among the people lost for aye.

...  
Justice the founder of my fabric moved:  
To rear me was the task of power divine,  
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.

...  
Before me things create were none, save things  
Eternal, and eternal I shall endure.  
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.

...

_Dante Alighieri - The Divine Comedy

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_

AN: I don't know if you guys could pick who was next, but I really tried to not make it predictable. I wanted to hold out on the chapters a little more but the truth was I couldn't. I wrote this whole story in one sitting, which equaled, 2 Red Bulls, a packet of skittles and a spider that was lurking on the wall, trying to read what I was typing.

So, let me know what you thought... ahh.. it feels good to actually complete something for once... or at least not to have the pressure's of writing another chapter...!

Thanks to all those who did review and those who read. Without you, I would be sane... yeah you heard _sane_!

Loves, Ses!


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